Love, Lauren

Hey, Raul:

Finished all the corrections to Mercy’s diary. It was weird to press save, knowing I was really finished. Abigail was with me when I wrapped it up, sipping tea as usual. When I turned around and told her I was done, she said, “Well, that’s that.” But she and I both know that just isn’t true. Something is about to begin, not end. Prof Turrell’s editor at his publishing house has already sent me an email. It’s not like it’s a done deal - not by a long shot, but this guy is asking all the right questions. He wants to see the transcript. He wants to see the diary, too. If I am hesitant to travel with it, he told me he would fly out to look at it.

I asked Abigail what I should do and she said the diary was mine to do with as I saw fit. I really don’t think she cares one way or the other. She has fulfilled two life dreams that have been robbing her of peace for decades. She has given the diary to someone she trusts and she has the forgiveness of the one person she loved most and hurt the most. She has moved on. Plus, she is busy working on getting Graham settled here in Santa Barbara. He promised to get help with his gambling addiction and she is at a place where she wants to believe him. Esperanza is not so confident. She rolls her eyes at me every time Abigail mentions Graham’s name.

Anyway, I’m not sure what I should do. I know where the diary belongs. Ultimately it belongs to everyone. I suppose the best place for it is a museum like the Smithsonian. My dad says until I decide I should have it insured and transferred to his safety deposit box. He texts me everyday – I could strangle Cole for teaching my Dad how to text – bugging me about it. He’s right, I guess.

I think for now, for at least a few more days, I just want nothing to change. I want the diary to be mine and Abigail’s and Mercy’s – and no one else’s. For just a little while. I am already sensing loss thinking about how things will change. Makes me feel melancholy. Tell me I’m not being selfish.

I should go. Got a paper due tomorrow. How did your clinicals go?

Miss you,
Love, Lauren

p.s. Tom Kimura’s obituary appeared in The Oregonian yesterday. My dad told me. Texted me actually. I didn’t tell Abigail. Should I?